


This Heart of Mine is Guilty not Remorseful

by Kittcatness



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Dream Smp, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Phil feels guilty for killing will, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittcatness/pseuds/Kittcatness
Summary: The room terribly inclosed and claustrophobia inducing. But the most familiar site was a too tall, too frail boy curled in on himself in the room. A boy to young in frame and too old in presence. A boy that reminded him so much of that boy that begged him to kill him and cried softly in his arms after Phil delivered on that one final promise.A boy that Phil had been to late to save.------------------or Phil is redeemed for his mistakes
Comments: 12
Kudos: 413





	This Heart of Mine is Guilty not Remorseful

**Author's Note:**

> tw for description of panic attacks, and slight mention of injury.
> 
> also this is very obviously about the characters, not CCs, which is basically true for everything in these tags but hey! better safe than confused.

Ranboo stood alone in an empty black box, yet again. Somehow, despite losing his memories, losing his friends, losing his home, he always found himself back here, alone. Only the void and his own thoughts to comfort him.

Well, comfort is not quite accurate. His head was screaming at him. At first he blamed his splitting head ache on the chaos of the explosions, the loud noises, the smoke, the cries of friends (were they still friends?). Yet, he knew deep in his heart that no natural phenomena could cause this level of splitting headache. This was all on him.

Why did he betray every one?

Did he do the right thing?

Why did he blow up the community house?

Did he blow up the community house?

That doesn’t sound right but what does at this point!

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW!

His hands ached. The pen used to franticly write in this once stolen book was being crushed in his grip, ink slowly running down his hands and on to the page.

He was shaking, why was he shaking?

Ranboo closed the book, that traitorous beloved item, with a sharp snap, ignoring the rational voice that told him that he was ruining the pages with the wet ink that was sure to smear.

Ranboo was running out of time.

He was running out of air.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

He slowly found himself sinking to the floor, curling gently around his own demise that he clutched in his arms. His chest was tight, he couldn’t breath.

Ranboo was going to die in this void alone with his thoughts and he couldn’t see any reason as to why a traitor like him didn’t deserve the tourture he was getting.

And with tears stinging his cheeks, and ocean spray from the bay out side burning his lungs, the world went black.

—————————————————

Philza was looking for someone. He hadn’t spoken to Ranboo much at all since he left L’Manberg, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t developed a bit of a soft spot for his lanky, half-ender neighbor.

Briefly Phil had seen him in the battle, sprinting away form a wither that was hot on his tail, and Phil felt, for the first time since the battle began, guilty for his actions. Yet, he was not remorseful. This damned place killed the hope that was intrinsic to his eldest child. This place killed him, and Phil would be damned if he didn’t carry out the final wishes of the son he was to late to save.

Pushing that thought aside with a forceful amount of suppression, Phil marched on. There was a scared and probably injured teen out here somewhere and he needed to find him and give him a place to stay. After all, it was Phil’s fault that the kid was now homeless (guilty not remorseful he so kindly reminded himself).

Ranboo was usually easy to spot, half-black half-white hair standing out like a becon in any environment, but Phil didn’t see him anywhere around the pit that once was L’manberg. Phil was starting to get nervous. He couldn’t help but be worried for the kid. What if he was out somewhere dying alone in a pit due to the attacks?

No. He shouldn’t think that way. Ranboo was going to be fine, he just needed to find him.

With revitalized energy and motive, Philza began to scout the outskirts of L’manberg, looking for the kid he had grown close to over the last few weeks.

——————————————————

Philza searched for about 30 minutes before he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Just out side of L’manberg, towards the beaches, sat a small black cat. A cat that Phil recognized.

He jumped down from his scouting perch on top of the hill and swiftly moved towards the cat.

“Hey Enderchest! Whatcha doin out here mate?” Phil asked reaching down to scratch the cats head. Almost immediately the cat began pushing roughly against Phil’s hand, seemingly urging him towards the beach front. Thats when Phil noticed the gap in the seafloor under his feet, and the sound of a disk spinning, its track long over.

Thats where Ranboo had to be.

Why was he down there? Ranboo hates the water.

Swallowing his fear of the scene that may lay before him and fearing the worst, Phil dove down into the under water room.

Almost immediately Phil was blasted into a scene that he had spent many nights trying to forget. There was writing scribbled all along the walls, raving ideas carved by an unstable hand.The room terribly inclosed and claustrophobia inducing. But the most familiar site was a too tall, too frail boy curled in on himself in the room. A boy to young in frame and too old in presence. A boy that reminded him so much of that boy that begged him to kill him and cried softly in his arms after Phil delivered on that one final promise.

A boy that Phil had been to late to save.

No. Not this time.

Phil resolutely pushed down his thoughts of will and rushed over to the crumpled boy, immediately checking to see if he was breathing.

The slightly off beat rhythm of Ranboo’s breath almost brought him to tears. He was not screwing up this time. Prime had given him another chance.

Phil quickly searched for other injury, noting the burns on his face, and the indication of withering along his back. He was scared for a moment to find Ranboo’s skin on his hand becoming black, only to realize that it was ink from the pen he had used to write in his trusty book.

Prime, the world had done a number on this boy.

Gentle as ever Philza pulled the unconscious boy into his arms, both relived and nervous that he didn’t stir in the slightest, and exited the obsidian cube ran boo had built.

They were going home.

——————————————————

Ranboo awoke to an unearthly brightness. 

_So, this is what the end is like_ he thought gently before he felt the pain.

His face hurt. His arms hurt. His chest ached. His throat burned.

A half uttered screech left his lips as his throat protested. He was going to cry again, causing more pain. It was too bright.

Where was he?

Fully opening his eyes he saw the brightness came from the snow reflection outside, he was not in his panic room anymore.

He didn’t have his book anymore.

In a panicked flourish he kept from the bed (why was he in a bed?) with full intent to run for his life. Instead his legs collapsed under the weight of his body, creating a loud BANG!

Well there goes any chance of gaining the element of surprise.

In a fit of hopelessness Ranboo simply remained there on the floor, ignoring the pain in his back and the pain every where to be honest. He just hoped who ever found him would be quick in killing him. Because he was a traitor right? His book was gone. They were going to kill him for betraying them. He was going to die.

Why was he going to die?

Where was he?

Where is the book?

Why cant he remember?

Why Why Why WHY wh-

“-anboo. Ranboo! Mate calm down!” He knew that voice.

“Phil?” He hiccuped between breaths. He was struggling to breath again.

“Ranboo you need to breath alright. You’re safe here.” Phil spoke calmly. Phil was a friend. Phil tried to kill him. No not him, he wanted to destroy L’manberg.

Phil was a friend.

Slowly Ranboo’s breathing became as regular as it could with the pain in his lungs. And he sat up from his place crumpled on the floor. Phil helped the teen back into the bed where he came from, hoping to get him to rest and heal his injuries. Ranboo was filled with a bone deep fatigue the moment he got to the mattress. The panic of the day had taken a lot out of him.

Phil had saved him from that room, saved him from himself.

“hey Phil?”

“yeah?”

“Thanks for saving me,” Ranboo half whispered before he collapsed back onto the bed into what was sure to be a long dreamless sleep.

They weren’t out of the woods yet, Phil knew that much. But the tall boy’s words wormed their way directly into his heart.

Thank Prime, he made it in time this go around. Maybe the guilt would finally halt in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoyed! this is first fic I've written since 2018 and I'd say I haven't lost any of my writing chops (lol)
> 
> check me out on twitter for updates on when I post! @nova_knows03!


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